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spn_on_parade2018-06-25 07:35 pm
dizzojay.livejournal.com) wrote in spn_on_parade2018-06-25 07:35 pm
Entry tags:
The Grand Fourth Birthday Teeny-Weeny Bang
It's hard to imagine it, but our little haven of mayhem is four years old on 8th July. So, to mark the occasion, we're inviting all of you great people who embrace the crazy along with us to take part in a special challenge - something we have never tried before ...
Our very own teeny-weeny bang.
It's very much like its bigger counterparts, only - well - teeny-weeny!
xxxxx
So, to celebrate our big day, we challenge you writers among us to write a teeny-weeny mini-related story - something between 100 and 500 words, post them as a comment here at this post on or before Sunday 1st July.
As of Monday 2nd July you artists among us, can claim a story, or stories to create a banner for.
Send the completed work to our lovely mod June at junejohn1564@gmailcom by Saturday 7th July 2018.
Then we will start to post drabbles/stories with their completed banners on Sunday 8th July 2018, our birthday.
How long posting goes on for will depend entirely on how many entries we get!
BORING STUFF - RULES...
When writing your drabbles/stories, keep in mind the minis that you have seen around the community,
so that there is someone around that can illustrate your story with the correct little person/people
x0x
Drabbles/stories should focus on mini Team Free Will, but any other mini (see above) is welcome
x0x
There is no limit to the number of stories you can submit, or the types of story - just post appropriate warnings where necessary
x0x
Banners can be composed of real mini photos, traditional art, manips, collages ... basically any thing that floats your boat!
xxxxx
So, any questions, just PM us mods and we'll be happy to help
And in the meantime, we're looking forward to making our birthday go with a...
(even a teeny weeny one)
Our very own teeny-weeny bang.
It's very much like its bigger counterparts, only - well - teeny-weeny!
xxxxx
So, to celebrate our big day, we challenge you writers among us to write a teeny-weeny mini-related story - something between 100 and 500 words, post them as a comment here at this post on or before Sunday 1st July.
As of Monday 2nd July you artists among us, can claim a story, or stories to create a banner for.
Send the completed work to our lovely mod June at junejohn1564@gmailcom by Saturday 7th July 2018.
Then we will start to post drabbles/stories with their completed banners on Sunday 8th July 2018, our birthday.
How long posting goes on for will depend entirely on how many entries we get!
BORING STUFF - RULES...
When writing your drabbles/stories, keep in mind the minis that you have seen around the community,
so that there is someone around that can illustrate your story with the correct little person/people
x0x
Drabbles/stories should focus on mini Team Free Will, but any other mini (see above) is welcome
x0x
There is no limit to the number of stories you can submit, or the types of story - just post appropriate warnings where necessary
x0x
Banners can be composed of real mini photos, traditional art, manips, collages ... basically any thing that floats your boat!
xxxxx
So, any questions, just PM us mods and we'll be happy to help
And in the meantime, we're looking forward to making our birthday go with a...
(even a teeny weeny one)
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“C’mon, Bobby, we need you,” Dean whined.
“Yes, please help us out, Bobby,” Sam joined in.
“Sorry, boys, it’s just not possible.” Bobby replied.
“You just need to referee,” Dean said.
“We have to do best of three, or Dean’ll sulk,” Sam added.
“Hey, I never sulk, Mr Mopey!” Dean grumbled.
“You so do, you could win a gold in...” Sam retorted.
“That’s enough.” Bobby cut in. “Honestly, you two are overgrown kids.”
“Sorry, Bobby,” Sam and Dean chorused.
“An’ you can both quit tryin’ them puppy dog eyes. Don’t work so well when your eyes are black, idjits.” Bobby told them, adding. “Look, I ain’t being mean, you can’t physically do rock-paper-scissors.”
“Crap, he’s right.” Sam looked down at his rigid hands.
Dean tried to move his hands.
“Son-of-a-bitch!”
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“It’s so hot," sighed Mini-Dean.”
Mini-Sam nodded in agreement, “I don’t think I’ve ever known it so hot!”
Mini-Winged Castiel nodded grumpily; “I hate this weather, my wings have gone all frizzy.”
“Hey,” Mini-Dean suddenly exclaimed in alarm; “can we melt? We’re plastic, how hot would it have to be for us to melt?”
“Hotter than this dude,” Mini Sam reassured; “anyhow I don’t think Dizzo would let us melt, even if it were hot enough.”
“She might,” Mini-Dean snorted; “she threatens to turn us into coasters sometimes.”
“No, Dean, she threatens to turn YOU into a coaster sometimes.”
Mini-Dean huffed. “So, we ain’t gonna melt then?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Mini-Sam replied calmly.
Mini-Dean was quiet for a moment.
“It’s still too hot Sam,” he sighed. “I wish we could cool off like normal folk. Kinda makes me wish my clothes weren’t painted on, so I could just strip off and jump under a cold shower…”
…
“Uh, Dean.”
“What?”
“I don’t wanna worry you or anything, but when you were talking about stripping off … Baby just melted!”
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Dean blinked, took in his super large surroundings, and the froze when he saw his… hands.
What in the hell? How did...
Oh, fuck.
The fangirl that he ran into while running away from that accursed Supernatural convention. Shit, she must have turned him into one of the weird big headed toys that the women kept carrying around.
Posing them in different poses. Not all of them were innocent. Hell, some of them were lewd. He would never... and they carried them in their purses like chihuahuas or something.
Some of them carried them in their... cleavage. Wait, maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
~Fin~
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Sam walked into the kitchen to find Dean on the worktop, balanced precariously on the rim of a mixing bowl and cautiously manhandling a bag of flour. The Impala was assisting, providing a taxi service from the pantry for eggs, milk and butter.
“Ah, need any help there, dude?” Sam asked.
“From you?” Dean scoffed. “I don’t think so. You’re the only person I know who actually has burned a boiled egg.”
Sam huffed with annoyance. “Eggs are hard!” he insisted.
“They are when you cook them.”
Sam scowled but, before he could frame a suitable retort, Castiel appeared – covered in bees. Thankfully he was fully clothed this time, and Sam sent a silent prayer of gratitude to the Funko-Pop painters.
Dean was unfazed by the angel’s appearance. “Did you get it?” he demanded.
“Raw Sourwood from the Appalachian Mountains,” Cas announced, producing a large jar of honey.
“Perfect!” Dean beamed. “And, even better!” he added as Crowley popped in bearing an even larger bottle of Craig.
“Don’t say I never do anything for you, you ungrateful plastic sod,” the demon grumbled.
“It’s not for me, Crowley,” Dean corrected him. “It’s for the cause.”
“And what is the occasion?” Sam asked. “What exactly is it that you’re making?”
“It’s my special recipe cake. It’s spn_on_parade’s 4th birthday this weekend! And this . . . ” Dean tapped the bottle. “This is the special secret ingredient.”
“In birthday cake?” Sam asked, doubtfully.
“It’s gonna be awesome,” Dean assured him as he awkwardly upended the bottle over the bowl.
“Are you sure you don’t need any hel – DEAN!”
His brother had manoeuvred both the bottle and himself over the edge of the bowl and now had his face positioned under the stream of whisky. “A good chef always tastes the ingredients,” he explained as he emerged, dripping.
“Listen, if it’s for the parade, I’d like to help,” Sam insisted. “I want to contribute.”
“Your contribution is to do what you do best, princess: look tall and buff and flaxen haired . . . and keep the hell out of my kitchen!”
“Whose kitchen?” Sam demanded indignantly.
“Mine!” Dean reiterated. “I don’t care whose name is on the banner!”
“Nice fourth wall break, Deano” said Deadpool. “Hashtag drive-by” he added as he glided beneath Sam’s nostrils.
Sam turned and stalked out of the room, barely mollified to learn he wasn’t the only exile as he heard his brother yelling “Jon Snow, get that red-eyed albino hell hound outta here! How many times I gotta tell you, no dogs in the kitchen!”
Just a short while later, however, he heard a cry of alarm, a crash and frantic splashing sounds and he was only briefly tempted to ignore his brother’s call:
“SAMMM! SHAMMMEEE! LIDDLE HELLP HEEEERE!!!!”
When he re-entered the kitchen he didn’t see Dean immediately but, on scaling the side of the mixing bowl, he found his brother swimming in the cake batter and quickly offered his hand. With their combined efforts of pulling and tugging and kicking and scrambling they managed to get Dean over and out of the bowl, whereupon he promptly fell on his back and stared at the ceiling with glazed eyes.
“Needsh jusht a little more shecret ingredient,” he declared.
.
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PS I love the story, with little tipsy Dean being rescued from the batter, hee hee!
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I'm having impure thoughts about tipsy Dean covered in cake batter … oh wait, sorry, I'm imagining the real thing … o.O
I love the little cameos from Deadpool, Jon Snow et al :D
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Glad you enjoyed it :)
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Tipsy Dean being rescued from batter, LOLSFOREVER!
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Glad you enjoyed tipsy battered Dean :D
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Hot, hot, TOO HOT!
“What do you mean, this is what happens...?”
“I’ve been in Arizona, Texas, Oklahoma, I’ve been in sixty degree heat, I’ve driven with the tips of my pinky and ring finger because the steering wheel was molten in my hands, but I have NEVER felt like I was walking on the surface of the sun, ever! Britain is WEIRD! They have six solid months of rain and then BOOM - someone leaves the heating on, in Hell, and it leaks upwards, towards Britain. Crazy assed country, man!”
RE: Hot, hot, TOO HOT!
RE: Hot, hot, TOO HOT!
RE: Hot, hot, TOO HOT!
I'm incline to agree right now...
RE: Hot, hot, TOO HOT!
RE: Hot, hot, TOO HOT!
Re: RE: Hot, hot, TOO HOT!